


Drabble Roads, Take Me Home

by keelywolfe



Series: by any other name [85]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface, papcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-01-02 08:53:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21158945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Even more drabbles from the ‘By Any Other Name’ universe





	1. Where There’s Smoke

* * *

Edge was humming along with the music absently, enjoying the swell of brass and low, mellow tones when he realized he could no longer hear the muffled sounds of the television through the kitchen door.

It wasn’t a call for concern, only curiosity, and he slid the baking dish into the oven and set the timer before stepping out to see where Stretch had gotten off to. The backyard was the obvious choice but it was empty of skeletons. That left the front and when he looked out, Stretch was sitting on the porch, his hood drawn up as he looked out at the street.

The sound of the door opening instantly ruined any chance of stealth, and Stretch jumped a little, twitching abortively before swinging towards Edge with a too-large grin. 

“babe!” Stretch said brightly, in that voice he used when he was trying a little too hard to hide something.

Not that it was difficult to guess what; Edge could smell the cigarette smoke the moment he stepped out, sharp and acrid, the same as he sometimes smelled it on Stretch’s clothes. But he said nothing. Nor did he acknowledge the fleeting guilt that crossed Stretch’s face.

Expecting a scolding perhaps, but Edge wasn’t about to give one, certainly not about this.

Even if quitting would help Stretch’s HP recover faster, undue stress also had an effect. It was a tossup between the two with neither being the lesser evil and Edge was not about to add to his husband’s anxiety by nagging, especially since he knew Stretch was trying very hard to cut back. It was enough that he was trying.

Instead, he sat next to him, the cold of the concrete step seeping immediately through his trousers. He shifted close enough for Stretch to lean in and take advantage of his natural heat if he wanted. It was gratifying that he did without hesitation, both of them leaving the issue of smoking unspoken. 

Never one for half-measures when an exaggeration would do, Stretch flopped into Edge’s lap, sprawling across his femurs like an oversized pet.

“what’s up?” Stretch asked. His light tone merged into a groan as Edge tugged down his hood to gently scratch his skull. If he was going to play the pet, Edge was happy to help him act the part.

“Nothing.” Edge traced his coronal suture, followed it like a road on a map. “I simply looked up and saw my husband was missing.”

He could hear the smile in Stretch’s voice. “not missing, only temporarily displaced. how’s it looking?”

Stretch gave the yard a flopping hand wave and for the first time Edge saw that their yard was getting a spooky makeover. There was the beginnings of a graveyard in the front, tombstones painted with great enthusiasm if not much skill. A large ghost was hanging limply from one of the trees, waiting for whatever means Stretch would likely be using to animate it. By tomorrow he would probably be finished with his ghoulish designs, hopefully with nothing that would warrant destruction if it leapt out at an unsuspecting Monster who was only on his way home from work and didn’t expect a horrifying attack to come from out of the trees.

“It’s a good start,” Edge said honestly.

“yep, i’ll get it done,” Stretch said happily. “kiddos need some creepy for when they head out for trick or treats.”

“Creepy, but hopefully no creeps. I need to check on dinner, it should be done in half an hour or so.” 

Before Stretch could escape from his lap, Edge leaned down and stole a kiss. Pretending not to feel the way his husband tensed, the same as he pretended not to taste ashiness overlaying his sweetness.

When he drew away, Edge could see the sheepishness in Stretch’s eye lights, a silent, ‘you know, and i know you know, but we both know what not to say.’

He ran a gloved finger down the side of Stretch’s face, the crimson fabric stark against his pale bone. “See you soon, love.”

“yep, soon,” Stretch echoed. He rolled off Edge’s lap and headed back into the yard. Edge went back into the kitchen and by the time Stretch came inside, the smell of smoke was gone and his next kiss only tasted of him.

-finis-


	2. Dead and Buried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch + The Neighborhood Minions = ??
> 
> Edge should already have that equation memorized.

* * *

There came a point where Edge could no longer muster surprise at the things he came across when he got home from work. Somewhere between chickens on leashes and piles of leaves, he’d given up and he could only shake his head to find several children sitting scattered across his lawn, focused diligently on whatever was in front of them.

“hi, babe,” Stretch called cheerfully, looking up from his own project as Edge got out of the car. There were strange…blotches…on his face and walking closer revealed it to be paint. On the ground in front of him was what he supposed was meant to be a tombstone from the ‘RIP’ on the top. But the inscription wasn’t one of reverence, the name was ‘Izzy Dead’ and beneath it was scrawled, ‘sure hope so!’

The paint wasn’t yet dry and Edge gingerly leaned down for a hasty kiss, one that hopefully didn’t share any of Stretch’s colorful new plumage.

Each of the children had their own tombstone and paint blotches, and all of them were wearing oversized t-shirts that looked as if they’d come from Edge’s ragbag. Give his love points for thinking of the parents’ laundry, at least.

Jeff was sitting next to Stretch with his own fake tombstone, his mourning the loss of ‘Barry M. Deep’. He flashed Edge an absent smile, focused on adding fake cracks to his stone. Technically plywood, but Edge really didn’t have any hair to split on that.

All in all, it was an unforeseen gathering creating unexpected treasures. “I thought you already had a cemetery for your display.”

“did, yeah,” Stretch said agreeably. The orange tip of his tongue poked out from between his teeth as he added a mossy flourish to his ‘stone’. “but oscar thought it was too small. must be strength in numbers, five tombstones isn’t scary, i guess.”

“I would think it would depend on who was buried beneath them,” Edge murmured to Stretch alone and he laughed.

“yeah, yeah, tough guy. we’re gonna have an awesome cemetery, right guys?” Stretch called to the children. They let out a chorus of cheers and he turned back to Edge, his eye lights shining, “come on, you can make one, too! come play with us!”

“Come play with us!” Echoed from Oscar, who was sitting with Toby and both of them had speckles of paint in their fur like bright green freckles. It became a chant, all of the children and Edge was including Stretch and Jeff in that count.

He didn’t hesitate, “Of course I will. Let me change, and I’ll be right back down.”

If it was possible, the delight in Stretch’s eye lights grew, the pale white orbs morphing briefly into hearts. “awesome. love you, babe.” 

Entirely too adorable and Edge couldn’t resist stealing another kiss, ignoring the groans of the children as Stretch met it happily. From the faint dampness smearing on his cheekbone, Edge suspected he was already wearing a little paint and he hastily went into the house to change into more suitable tombstone creation attire.

Painting fake tombstones with the local minions and Stretch. Of course he would. What wouldn’t he do with them? Weekend experiments, yes, jumping into leaf piles, yes, even teaching them to build traps. Yes, yes, and yes. Anything his love wanted, Edge was willing to try.

He’d spent an entire childhood devoid of games, focused on staying alive and grasping at any tiny slivers of happiness that he could. He wasn’t about to limit himself now that he had the chance, and there was plenty of play to make up for.

Edge changed quickly into old jeans and a shirt and headed back down, already considering his addition to the cemetery. Perhaps a ‘M.I. Hirt’ or ‘Ima Goner’ could join the others, maybe even an ‘Al B. Bach’.

Whatever he decided on, Edge hurried on his way. The fun had already begun and he was ready to play.

-Finis-


	3. Tumblr Ask - Janice's Kids

_crysta-cub asked:_

_Hey hey hey, i have a random prompt Idea. Janice needs our boys to watch her kids.. Either she needs some personal time or there is a matter that she needs taken care of or something. It could be either for a few hours or like a weekend thing... I just think it'll be a cute, potentially funny thing._

That is a very cute idea! Who better to trust your kiddos with? I mean, Edge takes really good care of Stretch and he’s pretty much a seven-foot kid. ^_~

* * *

The knock on the door was unexpected and Edge went to answer it before Stretch could even sit up on the sofa. To his further shock, it was Janice with both her boys standing with her. She looked very serious, trying hard to hide her distress.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to ask,” she began. “My sister…I need to go up to the hospital, I’m sure everything is fine, but I need to…can I ask you to watch my boys for a few hours?”

“Of course,” Edge said, concerned, “but are you all right to drive?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be fine. Thank you so much. Boys, please be good for Edge and Stretch, all right?”

They both nodded mutely and at her nudge, stepped into the house. She dashed back to the car immediately and Edge closed the door to see their little guests standing together, Oscar, the eldest, with an arm around Jude, who was only waist high to his much taller brother.

“hey, guys,” Stretch came over and crouched down with an easy smile. Almost immediately, Jude’s small chin began to wobble and moments later, he burst into tears, the fur on his face matting down as they soaked in.

“aww, kiddo.” Stretch reached out and when Jude lifted both arms, he scooped him up, cuddling the child close as he crooned softly. “it’ll be okay. your mom will be back before you know it. we can hang out for a while, though, you and me, right?” He rubbed the child’s back soothingly and those tears slowly trailed off, leaving behind hiccoughing breaths.

Oscar looked very much like he would like to burst into tears himself, watching his little brother with visible concern, long ears drooping and his little pink nose quivering. Edge settled a gentle hand on his shoulder and leaned down to murmur, “I was just about to start my evening baking, would you like to help?”

That seemed to catch him off-guard. He nodded slowly and followed Edge into the kitchen. The apron Edge found for him was too large by far; the ties wrapped around him twice and needed the end tucked into it so it didn’t drag on the floor. But Oscar took to making cookies with the clumsy skill of one used to making them with their mother, measuring ingredients out with very little spillage and taking Edge’s direction well. If the chocolate chip cookie dough rounds he made were twice as large as Edge would have, Edge didn’t comment, only mentally extended the cooking time to make up for it.

When they had a plateful of still-warm cookies, Oscar proudly carried them out to the living room, only to wilt slightly when it was empty.

Before he could look more than slightly anxious, Edge told him, “Don’t worry, I think I know where they are.”

He led Oscar to the backdoor and sure enough, Jude and Stretch were out there, bundled into their jackets and each of them with a chicken sitting in their lap. Noodle took up most of Jude’s legs, clucking with soft contentment as the child petted her. His enthusiasm made Edge wince slightly, but Noodle didn’t seem to mind a few extra firm pats.

“Cookies!” Jude said excitedly when he saw them approaching.

“You’ll need to wash your hands first,” Edge warned, and Jude wilted slightly, looking between the cookies and Noodle with indecision.

“I got you, bro,” Oscar said. He carefully set down the plate, picking up one of the cookies and holding it to Jude’s mouth so he could take a bite. Soon they were both giggling, Jude’s face smeared with chocolate and crumbs as Oscar tried to persuade him to take another bite into his already full mouth.

“where’s mine?” Stretch called. Nugget was still settled comfortably on his lap and he looked hopefully up at Edge. Edge raised a brow bone, but he plucked up one of the cookies, holding it to Stretch’s mouth…and pulled it back when he tried to take a bite. Stretch gave him a look of utter betrayal, whining out, “baaaaaaabe!”

Before he could even finish with that drawn out cry, Edge poked the cookie between his teeth, almost choking him as he chewed the over-large bite frantically.

“Is that what you wanted?” Edge asked sweetly, grimacing at Stretch’s chocolate-smeared grin.

“close enough, you brat.” He took a more reasonable bite when Edge held it out for him again. As he chewed, Edge’s phone buzzed.

_My sister is all right, she only has a sprained ankle. We’ll be back soon, hope the boys aren’t too much trouble!_

_No rush_, Edge sent back. He settled to sit next to Stretch, watching as the plateful of cookies was slowly demolished, the children and Stretch laughing as the chickens began trying to steal crumbs or even a peck from the cookie itself. He took one of the cookies, biting in and tasting the meltingly sweet chocolate.

Janice would be back soon enough and until then, their small guests would be well cared for. 

-finis-


	4. Cheetahs Never Prosper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come on, a day at a corn maze. What could go wrong?

* * *

“You do realize that if you weren’t slouching, you could probably see overtop these cornstalks.”

The look of utter betrayal Stretch gave Edge was coupled with a gasp of horror, both a contrast to the sparkling amusement in his eye lights. 

“you dare insult the integrity of the corn maze?” Stretch shook his head sadly. “i would think you of all people would want to properly appreciate a good puzzle.”

“Yes, a good puzzle. Not one that can be circumvented with a step stool.” Edge watched Stretch frowning down at the paper map they’d been given at the entrance, turning it this way and that. When he flipped it upside-down, Edge shook his head and took it away. “What exactly are we supposed to be doing?”

“there’s six checkpoints,” Stretch pointed them out on flyer. “we’re supposed to find them and ring the bell.”

Edge studied the map careful. It was only a general outline of the maze, showcasing the elaborate design that included a space ship and a message of ‘Greetings from Earth’. Small wonder Stretch chose this maze. Each checkpoint was indicated by a picture of a jack o’lantern and a bell. 

Edge looked at the entrance where others were trickling in, then back into the labyrinth of yellowed leaves, sockets narrowed. “This way.”

He strode off, Stretch staring after him before quickly falling in at his heels. Edge hardly paused at the intersections as he made his way along the pathways through the whispering corn. 

The first checkpoint loomed ahead of them in minutes, with a hand painted sign and a bell with a pull cord. Stretch rang it with a loud clang and they were off again. They could hear others talking and laughing on the other side of them through the rustling leaves, occasionally passing other Humans and even Monsters as they made their way through the maze.

The second checkpoint was identical to the first, as was the third. By the fourth, Edge was forced to slow his steps as Stretch began trailing behind him, panting. 

“i picked a hell of a time to give up smoking,” Stretch grumbled, swiping away a trickle of sweat that was running out from beneath his knit hat.

“You wouldn’t be able to smoke in here, anyway,” Edge pointed out, absently. “Not unless you wanted to solve the maze with a fiery ending.”

“yeah, let’s not. i’m thinking burning down the local corn maze along with some of the locals isn’t a good look for the embassy.”

The moment Stretch caught his breath, Edge started off again, stepping around the muddy patches in the dirt pathway. After a certain amount of pleading from his husband at the fifth checkpoint, Edge ended up with Stretch on his back, carrying him piggyback style despite Stretch’s strange giggles.

He was laughing hard enough to be difficult to carry by the time they’d reached sixth checkpoint at the exit and Edge carried Stretch out, lightly dumping him into a mound of hay and watching exasperatedly as he only laughed harder. 

Tears were starting to trail from his sockets and Edge sighed, “Care to share the joke?”

Stretch only shook his head, trying to catch his breath. “babe,” he choked out, “that…” the giggles started up again and Edge could only wait impatiently as Stretch wiped at his streaming sockets, gasping for air, “that…that’s like, a three hour maze. Their advertising brags at how hard it is!”

Edge frowned and glanced at his phone. “That only took twenty minutes at most.”

“i know!” Stretch curled up, still chuckling weakly. Hay was sticking out all over his clothes and a jaunty stalk poked through his exposed vertebra. “i know, and you just went through one of the hardest mazes in the state like some kind of puzzle cheetah on a speedrun, whoosh! how did you even…?”

“I’ve studied mazes and traps for years.” Edge shifted a little uncomfortably. He hadn’t meant to ruin it for Stretch, but it was so simple to intuit the correct path, he’d just followed his instincts.

“uh huh.” From Stretch’s grin, he wasn’t too upset about their hasty exit. “c’mon, we can take the hayride next, find a good pumpkin to take home.” He rolled to his feet, dusting off his clothes and his grin turned sly. ”Unless you want to speed run out to the patch.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Edge took his hand, lifted it to press a soft kiss to his knuckles. Other people were coming from the maze exit, all of them laughing and chattering, and Edge ignored them. His attention was only for his husband’s startled eye lights. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to rush you through.”

The amusement on Stretch’s face softened. “heh, no way, babe, that was pretty amazing. you’re amazing.”

His kiss was chaste and quick, likely in deference to the Humans milling everywhere around them. Edge didn’t much care who saw, but he allowed Stretch to pull away, already tugging him along in the direction of a large tractor hooked to a trailer bed full of hay. 

“c’mon, pumpkins await!” Stretch said cheerily. He did give Edge a last sly look. “And this time, you can’t be a _cheetah_.”

“It wasn’t cheating!”

“no? this from the guy who wanted me to look overtop the corn.”

“That isn’t cheating, either,” Edge said loftily, “that’s taking advantage of a design flaw.”

“keep telling yourself that, babe, you just keep it up. you may not think you’re a _cheetah_ but you’re _ lion!”_ Stretch laughed even as Edge swatted him lightly on the back of the skull, knocking his hat forward over his sockets. But his laughter was sweet to hear, his effervescent delight never failed to warm Edge. 

Even if he was wrong.

-finis-


	5. Double Feature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge has a question for his brother, but the real question is does Red have an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the Fell brothers, I do, their relationship is complications and snark, but damn, boys.

* * *

It was a mistake to make assumptions when it came to Red. 

Edge, for one, would never assume that simply because his brother was sitting at the table with his head resting on his folded arms, his sockets closed, that he didn’t hear every word being said around him. Possibly words from a few rooms away. 

In the living room, the others were chatting, waiting for Edge to finish making the popcorn before starting their horror movie marathon. Edge doubted they’d make it through ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’ and already had ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’ set aside as a standby. But whatever the movie was, popcorn was a requirement, properly made with real butter and still warm when it was served. 

His brother had followed him into the kitchen in a lazy wander and promptly put the table to use as a makeshift bed, not stirring through three batches of popping corn, even when Edge began strategically placing the serving bowls around Red’s skull. It allowed him to make note of the darkened shadows beneath his brother’s sockets, the lines of exhaustion that never seemed to fully fade. 

Edge poured another full pan of fluffy popped kernels into a large bowl, then went back to the stove to stir the melting butter. It was only when the kitchen was quieter, without the noise of him shaking the pan or the kernels popping, that Edge spoke. 

“Do you remember when I was very small—” Edge began. As expected, his brother interrupted him with a noisy snort, one that rang hollowly through his skull. His sockets slit open, briefly showing deep blackness before his eye lights lit. 

“who the fuck knows what i remember from those days,” Red grumbled. The way he yawned showcased his razor-edged teeth, like a cat. “underfell was a shithole, but the weed was a fuckton better, i can tell you that much right now.”

“This was before you took up drowning your sorrows,” Edge said dryly. He carried the pan of melted butter over, poured it in delicately thin streams over the waiting kernels. “As I said, I was very small, I don’t recall much myself. But I seem to remember that it could be so very cold at night in New Home. You had that old jacket of yours, I don’t recall where you got it.” Edge paused, briefly lost in memory. The jacket Red wore now was similar if much better, black leather with red trim and a fur-lined collar. The other one, the original, made the journey here, but Edge didn’t know if his brother kept it out the thin wisp that passed for Red’s nostalgia or simply tossed it away. The old jacket had nearly been more patches than original fabric, and most of Edge’s memories of it were of an unpleasant sort, spattered with marrow or grey with dust. But not all. “Sometimes you would tuck me in the front of it and zip it up. I think I remember sleeping that way on cold nights.”

Red only shrugged, stealing a handful of the popcorn before Edge could swat his hand away. “maybe i did. it got fucking cold sometimes and if it woke you up, you’d start bawling again.” His crunching was obnoxiously loud, as was his shortcut to the other side of the table, out of Edge’s reach. “coulda put out a fucking ad on the undernet for free xp as many times as your howling caught someone’s ear. we were always having to pack up and move somewhere else cause of you.”

“ah, yes, there is that, isn’t there.” Edge sprinkled each bowl with a precise measure of salt. “My constant inconvenience for you.”

“fuck yeah, you were,” Red rocked his chair back on two legs as he pulled out a narrow silver cylinder, unscrewing the cap and tipped out a toothpick. Edge caught a whiff of cinnamon as his brother picked idly at his teeth. “you know how many times i almost left you someplace?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“musta been about a hundred,” Red said cheerfully. His eye lights were a shade deeper red than Edge’s, the color of old blood, and they gleamed as he flicked a sly glance at Edge. “woulda been easy, too. every doorstop called your name, little bro. every alleyway, every fucking garbage can. coulda left ya any old place.”

“I can’t help but notice you never did.”

“ehhhhhh,” Red shrugged. He bit down too hard on the end of the toothpick and it splintered with a tiny crack, forcing him to spit out flecks of wood. He tossed it on the floor, ignoring Edge’s irritated huff, and pulled out another. “i always was a fucking idiot.”

“Pick that up,” Edge ordered and glared until his brother’s permanent grin twitched into something wider. He let the chair fall back to four legs with a clatter, and the motion he made as he slid off the chair could best be described as an ooze. Deliberately, he picked up the toothpick and with a flick of his sharpened fingers, he sent it into the trash can. The two of them stared at each other, crimson against crimson, and neither looking away. Until Edge gave a slight nod and picked up two of the bowls of popcorn. “Grab that last bowl.”

“whatever you say, boss,” Red snagged it and if a tiny flurry of kernels fell to the table, Edge didn’t comment, only walked out to join the others with his brother at his heels, murmuring low enough that only Edge could hear. “i’m right behind you.”

-finis-


	6. Sightseeing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharing clothes is one thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are the things that happen when I chat with people. ^_^ 
> 
> Written entirely for TheSinBubble.

* * *

It was still fairly early in the morning when Edge heard the kitchen door open behind him, along with scuffling footsteps headed in the direction of the coffee pot.

“morning, babe,” Stretch said with a reasonable amount of cheer and not much of a yawn.

“Good morning.” Edge didn’t look up from the Sunday paper as he listened to Stretch puttering around, but he did catch the sound of boots on the tile rather than slippers or bare bony feet. "Where are you headed off to?"

"they're doing another free concert down at the park.” There was a sound of hastily slurped coffee and an orgasmic sigh that bordered on obscene. “andy is all over going to this one, it's a tribute to the 80's. said he's going as cyndi lauper."

"He'll need a wig," Edge said absently. He started to take a sip from his coffee cup as Stretch rounded the kitchen table. Glanced up and froze, a dribble of coffee splashing the tabletop as the cup sat suspended in the air inches from his mouth while he stared at his husband.

Stretch grinned and made a little pose. "whatcha think, not bad, right?"

Very carefully, Edge set down his coffee cup. He plucked a napkin from the holder and dropped it over the spillage, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back and stood, saying clearly, "No."

Stretch paused, startled, his outstretched arms sagging, and a flutter of uncertainty went over his face. "no?"

Most of the clothes were Edge's as they often were, a plain black t-shirt and a leather vest that he often wore when he rode his bike. The metal-studded wristbands were new, as was the orange bandanna Stretch had tied around his skull, and the button pinned to it that declared him a ‘cool dude’. None of that merited any notice.

It was the pants that caught Edge's attention, black leather and the waistband was held tight around Stretch’s pelvis with a wide belt, the skull buckle tilted rakishly with the cant of his hips. Every inch of that leather molded to bone, emphasizing his lanky slenderness, from his pelvic girdle down his femurs, all the way to the tops of his boots. Clinging delectably, and when he walked, the movement would reveal tantalizing glimpses of his iliac crests, ivory bone peeking through swaths of black leather and cotton. Edge knew it would because it did the same thing when he wore them.

"No," Edge repeated, "I can't allow it."

"what do you-hey!"

Stretch let out a surprised laugh, squirming in protest as Edge suddenly scooped him up over his shoulder and determinedly carried him back upstairs. When Edge tossed him lightly on the bed, Stretch tried to scramble off the other side, but the effort was in vain. Edge was already straddling him, the plain red silk of his pajama pants contrasting against black leather. The fabric whispered as it glided together, hissing softly. Gloved hands cupped Stretch’s jaw as Edge leaned in to take a hard kiss, their mouths clashing eagerly. 

They were both breathless when he drew back to say, "I'm sorry, but I can't allow you outside dressed like that. That is a sight that needs to be reserved for me alone.”

Stretch squirmed again, a deliberate writhe that sent his hips bucking up against Edge’s. The movement crackled in crimson eye lights, tiny bolts of heat. "oh, yeah? bet they look even better on the floor. wanna find out?"

“Yes,” Edge growled, low, and dove in for another kiss. It was much later that Edge was able to agree that they did, even with one pantleg turned inside out. His bathrobe and pajamas were joined with the leather, red tangled into black in a fight for dominance that lasted much longer than the one on the bed.

For the time being, Edge was much more focused on the pale, glossy bone revealed by stripping those pants away, another view he wanted for himself alone. 

Some sights were too perfect to be shared. 

-finis-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Please look at the gorgeous art gilded_pleasures did for this!!](https://www.deviantart.com/gildedpleasure/art/those-aren-t-your-pants-819322890?d=424&modal=welcomeback)


	7. Theory of a Nap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone knows if you take notes, it counts as science.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sure this came out of my own wish for nap. At least Stretch let’s me live vicariously through him.

* * *

Over years of experimentation, Stretch conclusively decided there were three main types of naps. Seriously, he took a shit-ton of notes on it, so, science.

There were naps you woke from feeling refreshed, invigorated, energized. When you got up and stretched for the first time, every joint popped satisfyingly, exactly the way it should. Music came from the air, woodland creatures surrounded your feet, waiting for you to break into melodious song and there was a full pot of fresh coffee waiting in the closest kitchen.

He’d had a nap like that one maybe once, or maybe he’d dreamed it. Didn’t matter, it counted.

Most naps were the second type. Waking up by prying open your sockets and feeling like the weight of the sun was pouring right into your skull. Somehow, you were even more tired than before, like exhaustion was a virus, multiplying while you snored. All your bones ached, except for the hand that was numb because you ended up laying on it the entire time and the static feeling of pins and needles as it came back to life did not enhance the mood. You lost a sock while you were asleep and the damn thing must’ve been sucked into the void because it was nowhere in the blankets or couch cushions. Eventually it would morph out of the carpet in the middle of the room to annoy all the local brothers. If there was coffee available, it would barely make half a cup and it tasted liked burnt tires.

Yeah, he’d long thought the second type was the most common breed. Didn’t stop him from taking naps, mind. There was always the chance of the first one and fuck it, people bought lottery tickets, too.

That had been Stretch’s running theory for years, but after they got to the surface Stretch was willing to concede there was a third kind of nap.

The kind where you woke up on the sofa or bed in increments, coming back slowly rather than slapping you across the face with consciousness. Made it easier to roll over and get to your feet, and maybe you didn’t feel like a choir of angels was about to become your backup singers, but you felt good, ready to be awake and you didn’t mind making your own pot of coffee.

Not a bad way to go, worth the price of admission. That was the way of it for a while, his theorem trifecta. Aboveground, last option became his new normal, with occasional deviations into the second, and that was a-okay.

Wasn’t until Stretch moved in with Edge that he discovered there was a fourth nap, a fucking eureka moment for him, and those naps didn’t come often, but when they did? Yeah, he was putting all his money on that option.

Waking up slowly with heady warmth all along his back, coupled with arms around him, holding him in close. Breath soft on his cervical vertebra, a leg thrown over his own. Limbs and warmth caging him in, all conspiring to keep him trapped exactly where he wanted to be anyway. 

Like today. Stretch kept his sockets closed, soaking up the way it felt to be held by his husband. So safe and loved, what he wouldn’t have given for even a bite-sized amount of that back in Underswap. 

It’d been worth waiting for. 

Soon enough a deep voice would rumble next to his skull, asking him softly if he’d slept well or how was he feeling, or best of all, simply murmuring ‘I love you’. 

Sometimes these naps ended with getting up, or better, with staying right where he was and putting their mattress to good use. Either way, Edge would end up bringing him a drink afterward and maybe it’d be coffee, maybe not. Whatever his mama bear brought always tasted just right.

Stretch sighed and snuggled in a little closer, deliberately threading his fingers through Edge’s and squeezing lightly. Just to let Edge know he was awake. Fourth-level naps were pretty great and all, but right now, he was ready to wake up and see what happened next.

-finis-


	8. Tumblr Ask- Old Wounds

_crysta-cub asked:_

_Ok... Now the thirst has shifted to Edge's old battle wounds being all menacing and achy.. Maybe in connection to the weather or stress... Or even a battered joint getting out of place and needing to be set back... And Stretch does his thing and soothes his pains, taking care of Edge without any prompting._

Man, do I love the idea of Edge having old battle scars that trouble him from time to time. Something about the big, strong Edgelord needing comfort, ya know? This isn’t quite what you suggested, but it’s what came to me. 😁

Spicyhoney, of course, ‘by any other name’ universe.

* * *

He didn’t even notice it, not at first.

Edge’s focus was on finishing the report in front of him while it was still a reasonable hour. He did try not to keep working after he came home for the day; he spent enough time at the Embassy as it was and it wasn’t fair to Stretch who was always eager to be with him when he came home.

There were times though when it was unavoidable and Edge was trying to finish it as quickly as he could, hyperaware of Stretch sitting behind him on the sofa, watching Netflix with the sound turned down so as not to disturb Edge’s focus.

Not that he could focus, Edge was absently shifting in his seat, trying to pay attention to the legalese on the laptop screen in front of him so he could decide whether or not to approve the damn thing and he was about to give up for now, perhaps try again after Stretch fell asleep for the night, when he heard Stretch moving behind him.

“I’m sorry, love,” Edge sighed heavily. “I know, I’m almost finished—”

“it’s okay, babe,” Stretch said, with enough resigned amusement to send a faint pulse of guilt through Edge’s soul. “hold still a second, yeah?”

“What—” he started, but a hand slipping into the collar of his shirt made him pause in confusion.

For a moment there was nothing but the slender bones of Stretch’s phalanges resting lightly on his scapula, then creeping warmth welled in that touch, filling him with a sense of _green_. There was no other way to describe healing magic, brilliant green coupled with the sudden easing of pain Edge hadn’t even realized was aching through his shoulder. There was an old scar there, a badly healed break from a LV-maddened Monster’s teeth closing over it years ago, and Edge let out a shaky sigh of relief as the pain, and yes, he noticed it now, left him.

There was the soft brush of a kiss against the back of his skull. “better? you were squirming over here like you had rocks in your shorts.”

“Better,” Edge agreed. That hand pulled free of his shirt and Edge caught it before Stretch could get too far away, drawing it down to press a kiss of his own against his knuckles. The rainbow-colored silicon ring on his third finger received a special kiss of its own. “Thank you.”

“yeah, yeah,” but he could hear the smile in his husband’s voice. “hurry up, they updated the great british baking show.”

“Give me fifteen minutes.” A reckless promise, but with the discomfort gone, Edge was better able to focus. He turned back to his laptop, automatically straightening his posture without a hint of pain, and started to read. The sofa creaked behind him as Stretch sprawled out again and whether he was finished or not in fifteen, Edge planned on joining him.

-fin


	9. You Could’ve Been Any Flavor At All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch should've remember at least once lesson from Snowdin: you never know when you'll stumble across a trap.

* * *

According to the Human’s calendar, the first day of winter wasn’t for another month. Stretch was calling bullshit on that because it was already freezing out and when he went out to check on the chickens, he didn’t bother walking out to the coop. A shortcut was good enough for the best days in Snowdin, it was good enough now. 

He didn’t linger, shivering as he fed the ladies and gave a few quick scritches before heading back inside. Stripping off his jacket, Stretch shook off the chill, wandering into the kitchen in search of caffeination to find Edge sitting at the kitchen table with a disturbingly large puzzle laid out before him on a mat. Edge loved puzzles but he didn’t get to work on them often, too damn busy with everything else in the world, so it made Stretch smile to see it. 

That smile faded as he looked down at the pieces. 

“are those all one color?” Stretch asked dubiously. 

“Not at all,” Edge told him absently. He plucked up a random piece and snapped it into place with the confidence of one who knew they were right. Because of course he was. He picked up another piece, turning it so Stretch could see the color shading from pink into dark blue. “It’s lenticular, so the colors shift.”

“that is pure madness,” Stretch told him, admiringly. His patience with puzzles pretty much ended with trying to force a square peg into a round hole, so it was always kind of impressive to watch Edge’s progress throughout a day. His baby may or may not finish it today, but he’d enjoy it while he was doing it, and if Stretch could pester him a little along the way, then they’d both have a good day. 

There was a cup of coffee next to Edge, still steaming, and a yellow plastic bag with a couple of treats nearly spilling out from the opening, ooooh, was that chocolate? Edge didn’t eat candy very often so to see him sitting here, puzzling and snacking, made a certain giddy lightness fill Stretch’s soul. 

But sharing was caring, right? Stretch filched one of the candies and popped it into his mouth, saying around his mouthful, “so how long have you…grrrk!”

The salty bitterness that suddenly registered with his sense of taste made Stretch gag, loudly and vigorously. It was like pure evil condensed into a tempting candy disguise and his magic recoiled, desperate trying not to assimilate it the way it normally did food. Stretch darted to the kitchen sink and spat the glob of vile out, struggling to get the gooey foulness off his teeth where it stuck stubbornly. He fumbled for the knob, turning on hot water by accident at first and then finally cool, blissful relief as he rinsed his mouth directly from the faucet.

It took several rounds of gargling and spitting along with scraping at his teeth with a fingertip to get rid of that nastiness. By the time Stretch turned back around, he was feeling like he’d taken a spin through the washing machine in the heavy cycle, waterlogged and abused. The front of his sweatshirt bore scars from his battle, more or less drenched all the way down to the waist. 

Stretch eyed that innocuous yellow packet warily, half-expecting one of the things to crawl out and try to hop into his mouth like the incarnation of evil that it was. He pointed one shaking finger at it,_ j’accuse!_, and rasped out, “what IS that?”

Edge hadn’t even looked up from his puzzle, that prick, and the faint amusement in his voice was as blatant as a howling laugh, “It’s salted black licorice. I take it you didn’t care for it?”

“you think?” Stretch grumbled. He spat again into the sink, ugh, that shit lingered, didn’t it. “babe, if you’re after my life insurance, there are kinder ways to commit murder. arsenic, maybe, or you could start leaving roller skates at the top of the stairs.”

“I’ll remind you that I didn’t offer you one.” The tone was airy, but a damn stranger could see how hard Edge was struggling not to laugh. 

Okay, the candy wasn’t the only piece of shit in their kitchen today. Stretch swallowed back his own laugh and that tasted a helluva lot better. “that’s why it’s a trap! you know me, you knew i’d take one!”

“Hmm, that sounds more like just punishment than attempted murder,” Edge mused, snapping another piece into place. He didn’t turn his head, but his eye lights shifted slyly in Stretch’s direction. “Can we also call it a lesson learned?”

Oh, mama bear, challenge accepted. 

Edge’s exasperated sigh as Stretch squirmed in between his chair and the table to straddle his lap was a blatant lie; his gloved hands settling on Stretch’s hips to tug him closer was more truthful. He tipped his head up with a softer sigh as Stretch nuzzled a kiss against his mouth. 

“nah,” Stretch murmured, “that’s a lesson i refuse to be taught. i’ll always wanna steal your candy.” Another kiss, then a sly murmur, “even when it’s salty.”

He let out a startled laugh as he was suddenly lifted, Edge’s arms supporting under his femurs. The table jarred as they bumped against it and Stretch thought he heard a couple pieces fall to the floor. Didn’t matter, looked like it was puzzle intermission time and if Edge’s mouth tasted a little of that medicinally bitter nightmare stuff, Stretch didn’t complain. 

His baby was an acquired taste.

-finis-


	10. Childish Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Always buy the plushie, roaring tyrannosaurus, lego x-wing fighter. Just do it)

* * *

Edge almost didn’t see the display as he walked past it towards the checkout. Already the stores were getting crowded with holiday shoppers and Edge was hurrying, trying to get to the registers for the few groceries he needed for tonight’s dinner.

But a child darting in front of him slowed him down, joining a group of others who were surrounding a large colorful box on the floor. It was overfilled with stuffed animals, the children laughing and digging through it in search of their favorite. 

If he hadn’t paused for a moment, amused by their antics, he never would have seen the one that churned to the top of the pile. White with a bright splash of red at the top and Edge paused. None of the children seemed interested in that particular toy and he reached through the tangle of young limbs to pluck it free. 

A chicken, much larger than the one that Stretch won him from the arcade machine. It was almost the size of a throw pillow, surprisingly soft and squashy. 

He never hesitated, adding it to his basket as he resumed his trek to the registers where the lines had unfortunately grown during the distraction. 

It was well worth the delay to see the delight on Stretch’s face when he pulled it out of the bag. He snatched it up instantly, hugging it and laughing softly. 

“awesome! damn, it’s so soft!” Stretch nuzzled happily against the chicken’s plush beak. 

“I thought you’d like it,” Edge said dryly. He carried the rest of the groceries into the kitchen, setting them on the counter so he could finally start dinner. To his surprise, the door swung open behind him as Stretch followed, sitting at the kitchen table and setting his newest chicken on top of it. 

There was something about his expression that made Edge frown inwardly, but he said nothing, stripping off his gloves as he gathered ingredients and sliced vegetables while he waited. Stretch would speak when he was ready and not a moment sooner. He only kept working, humming under his breath and watching from the corner of his socket as Stretch fiddled with the toy, absently flapping its plushy wings.

It didn’t take Stretch long to speak, his tone meeker than his normal exuberance. 

“do you ever think,” Stretch hesitated, visibly choosing his words with care, “that, um, that i’m silly for liking toys as much as i do?”

_I was the one who bought it for you_, Edge didn’t say. It wasn’t the answer his love needed, and he didn’t bother to point out the shelves of action figures on the walls of the room right next to them.

Instead, he asked pointedly, “How many plushies did you have growing up?”

“heh,” Stretch smiled a little and shook his head, “none that i remember.”

“Then you’re making up for lost time,” Edge said firmly. He set his knife aside, wiping his hands on a clean towel as he walked over to Stretch. Who tipped his head back, looking upside-down at him as Edge stepped up behind his chair. He gingerly cupped Stretch’s face in his bare hands, thumbs stroking over his cheek bones as he gave him a soft, wrong-way-round kiss.

“thanks, baby,” Stretch murmured against his mouth. 

“Always,” he whispered back. He straightened, reaching out to lightly tweak the plush chicken’s comb. “Now, you and General Tso get out of my kitchen so I can cook.”

“general tso?” Stretch groaned, “seriously?”

“The other choice was Cacciatore, it’s your call.”

“yeah, okay, me and the general are out.” Stretch stood, snagging up the plush again. It squished pleasantly between them as Stretch stole a last kiss before escaping out to the living room. 

The moment the door swung closed Edge closed his sockets and took a long, slow breath, letting go of the hot tension that was seething in his soul. Whoever it was that made Stretch feel foolish for loving toys and amusing little experiments wasn’t here, could never hurt him again. 

But oh, sometimes he wished they were.

He let that anger go, releasing his aggression into chopping vegetables and mincing garlic. When he took a plate out to Stretch, he set it aside on the coffee table first and made a point of stealing away his newest toy, offering whatever puns he could think of with a silly, high-pitched voice until Stretch was nearly in tears laughing, because the newest member of their chicken family was surely egg-cited to meet them, and they should celebrate by dancing chick-to-chick. 

Anything he could do to earn that sweet smile. 

Finally, Stretch snatched it back, still giggling as he said, “idiot. probably why i love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Edge told him warmly. He picked up his plate and took a mouthful, savoring the flavors. Stretch plunked the toy between them as he reached for his own dinner and that was fine. 

It wouldn’t be between them for long. 

-finis-


	11. Past Bedtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge didn't usually go to bed at the same time as Stretch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, don't mind me, I just needed a soft little drabble in the midst of all the angst. ^_^

* * *

Edge didn't often go to bed at the same time that Stretch did. He liked being in bed with him, especially if they were putting the mattress to its secondary use, but their sleep needs were entirely different. In Edge's opinion, compromising to meet those sorts of needs should be the basis for a good marriage, along with a few others. Often, he would be the one to get up after they made love and retrieve the requisite damp washcloth. Not a hardship on his part, it allowed him to greedily indulging in a different sort of intimacy as he gently cleaned Stretch’s lovely bones while he dozed. 

Usually he’d pull Stretch back into his arms afterward, holding him as he fell asleep, but eventually, he’d carefully extract himself, tucking Stretch warmly beneath the blankets while he stayed up later doing housework or working on reports. 

There were the rare nights when sleep called him early and those nights, he kept Stretch close, cuddled up against him, the two of them burrowed together in the decadent warmth their body heat gathered beneath the blankets. Tonight was one of those nights, moonlight pouring in from the window through curtains that hadn’t been pulled and Edge was drowsy, still feeling all the tiny, lovely aches leftover from sex and he thought he might fall asleep just like this. 

"what if the world ended tomorrow? what would you do?"

Edge didn't open his sockets, only sighed and shifted beneath the comforter. "Is this a rhetorical question?"

"more a hypothetical."

"Do I know the world is ending?"

"sure, why not."

Stretch was resting with his skull on Edge’s rib cage, in the perfect position for Edge to drop a light kiss on the top of his skull. "Then I’d stay home with you."

The sound Stretch made was distinctly rude. "okay, that’s boring."

To his growing dismay, Stretch drew away, sitting up on the mattress. The sulk in his voice obvious enough that Edge cracked open one socket to eye his pouting husband. "You haven’t given me much to work with. Is the end of the world zombie apocalypse or meteor striking the earth? If you want me to make a strategy, I’ll need specifics."

And he needed to ignore the distraction of the blankets puddling around Stretch’s bare hips, the paleness of his pretty, bare bones in the soft moonlight as he considered, "what about, a meteor strikes the earth and causes a reaction that creates zombies?"

"That is more specific," Edge agreed. He closed his socket again. "I'll have a plan made by tomorrow night."

"tomorrow!" Stretch began, outraged, only to yelp as Edge immediately yanked him back down, wrapping both arms around him tightly and ignoring his indignant squawks. 

"It will take some time for the 'zombie effect' to cover the planet,” Edge told him, sternly, “twenty-four hours is a reasonable time to plan for disaster."

"but what if--mmmph!" His words cut off as Edge gently but firmly covered his mouth, mindful of the sharpened tips of his still-bared fingers. 

"Go. To. Sleep."

Instead of a reply, there was sudden warm wetness of Stretch’s mouth around two of his fingers, sucking teasingly. It brought to mind other uses of that soft, sweet mouth and Edge gingerly pulled his hand free, his fingers reluctantly released. 

But he put his newly freed, slightly damp hand to good use, rolling to pin Stretch beneath them even as he laughed softly, eagerly pulling Edge down on top of him.

So long as they weren’t going to sleep, they might as well put the bed to good use.

-finis-


	12. Insecurity Blanket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are worth staying awake for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still recovering from the last long chapter, so today is a drabble day. 😁

* * *

Despite the late hour, Edge was contemplating brewing another pot of coffee. His cup had long since cooled and for him, coffee was less a beverage and more a way of life, no matter the time of day. Even stone-cold, coffee from the Beanery was better than any other Edge ever had and he tossed back the last swallow before setting the cup aside. He returned his attention to the report on his laptop, still idly considering whether he needed another cup when he heard a door open upstairs. 

He looked over his shoulder to see mostly blankets on the landing, but also the occasional skeletal hand or foot, strongly suggesting that it was Stretch standing there and not that their bed covers achieved sentience. An hour earlier Edge had left him tucked into the bed, but it seemed his rest added a touch of ‘lessness’ to it after.

Edge took a moment to save his report before he called up, “What’s the matter, love, can’t you sleep?”

It wasn’t entirely uncommon for Stretch to go through a bout of insomnia, still exhausted but unable to settle enough to sleep.

The sound Stretch made in reply was more a slurry of consonants and vowels than a word. Edge held back a smile, and attempted to coax the untamed beast that was his after-midnight husband, “Come down here?”

He realized his mistake almost immediately. Stretch shuffled down the stairs, blankets and sheet dragging precariously and Edge had to resist the urge to run over and scoop him up before he tripped and broke his damn beloved neck. 

It was less skill and more fool’s luck that he made it all the way to the desk. There he paused, standing uncertainly, until Edge patted his knee encouragingly. Only then did he crawl into his lap, still firmly wrapped in the blankets. An awkward bundle of well-cushioned bones for Edge to hold.

Edge shifted him around until he was comfortably settled, and when he was done Stretch mumbled out, “don’t wanna bother you.”

Startled, Edge leaned back, plucking through the blanket folds until he could uncover Stretch’s skull. Which was tipped downward, his sockets half-closed. “Love, you aren’t bothering me, you couldn’t. Now, what’s wrong?”

He sighed, all the world’s weariness in one breath. “don’t wanna sleep.”

That roused some concern. Nightmares, perhaps? Stretch did get them from time to time, not so often since he’d started his therapy, but there were still occasions. 

“Why is that?” Edge asked, quietly encouraging.

Another sigh and shift, and a fold of the blanket fell over one of Stretch’s sockets like the floppy ear on a dog. “if i go to sleep now, then it’ll be tomorrow when i wake up and today will be over.”

Ah. Edge relaxed, fighting back another smile as he said, dryly, “Yes, I’m no scientist but I do believe that’s how linear time works.”

“don’t want today to be over. wanna be with you.” Clinging stubbornly, as if suspicious that admission would get him sent to bed like a recalcitrant toddler.

“Well, then stay up,” Edge said mildly.

Stretch pushed the blanket folds off his head, rolling his skull until he could peek up at Edge. The soft, muted glow of his eye lights hopeful, “yeah?”

“Of course, yeah,” Edge told him exasperatedly. “I told you, you aren’t bothering me.”

“you’re working.”

Another piece of the puzzle, that, and the picture was starting to come clear. “I’m technically off the clock.”

Stretch snorted at that, “babe, you are never off the clock. you ride that clock like a mechanical bull.”

The best way to dispel that sour look was to kiss it away and Edge did, lingering until Stretch sighed, exhaling sweetly against his mouth. “Well, I’m not playing cowboy right now,” Edge murmured, “You’re up, you’re awake, what did you want to do?”

“Um,” Stretch’s grin twisted sheepishly. “Sit here like this?” 

“We can do that.”

Edge shifted, reaching out to turn on the music app on his laptop to something soothingly instrumental. Not Stretch’s preference, but he didn’t offer a protest to their soundtrack for the night, only snuggled in closer. The desk chair creaked ominously as Edge leaned back, but he knew from past experience that it was sturdy enough. He tucked his husband in close against his chest, blankets and all, all the light weight that contained the exuberance that was Stretch his to hold. 

He’d never gotten a chance to make coffee, Edge noted absently, sliding a hand along Stretch’s arm, teasing between his ulna and radius and down to twine their fingers together. It was fine, he didn’t need it. 

This was worth staying awake for all on its own.

-finis-


	13. Humbugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge isn’t quite feeling the season yet.

* * *

“hey, babe, come outside for a mo’?”

Edge glanced up from cookies he was removing from the sheet to see Stretch’s head poking through the kitchen door, a ski cap perched on top of his skull. It was the last tray of this batch and Edge left them to cool, wiping his hands on a towel and hanging up his apron before following Stretch out the door. His husband waited impatiently for Edge to slide on his shoes and jacket, his own gloved hands rapping against each other like an absent game of patty cake. 

He allowed Edge to take a hand to still his fidgeting, but for once, resisted his attempt to steal a kiss, walking backwards towards the back door and pulling Edge along, “come on, come on!”

“What are you showing me?” Edge asked, a touch warily. There wasn’t enough snow for anything too worrying, but with Stretch, it was best to be vigilant. 

“would you just come on?” Stretch laughed. “it’s not bad or anything!”

Probably best to reserve judgement on that. The sky was overcast above them, the yard mottled in snowy patches mixed with the brown of dying grass. This was the worst part of winter, in Edge’s opinion, too warm to play in the meagre snow, too cold for anything else. 

The chicken coop door was open, all three of the ladies pecking at the ground in hopes of late season bugs. That was where Stretch led him, sweeping his arms out theatrically, presenting the very same chickens that Edge saw on a daily basis. 

“look!” he said cheerfully.

“You knitted them sweaters,” Edge said slowly. He crouched down and all three chickens abandoned their scratching to run to him, clucking rapturously as he gently patted them. Each one of them was wearing a tiny sweater, their wings pulled carefully through armholes. He’d noticed Stretch knitting furiously the past couple weeks, it was hard to miss. The levels of swearing that floated out of the living room was directly proportional to the amount of stitches he managed to drop per row. 

This was not the result he’d been expecting. 

“not just any sweaters!” Stretch said gleefully. “gyftmas sweaters!”

He supposed that they could represent Gyftmas, in the loosest possible use of the term. Nugget’s sweater was bright green with a pattern of what might be a white tree, if one had been locked in a room for thirty-odd years and never seen a tree before. Noodle’s sweater was a cheerful red and it would have contrasted nicely with her white feathers if not for the lopsided wreath stitched on the front. 

It was Dumpling’s shirt that promised to haunt Edge’s memories like a blot of mustard smeared over Marley’s ghost. To begin with, it was purple, hardly the color that anyone who was not colorblind or perhaps nursing a head injury would choose for a red hen. A geometric pattern ran through it in white, but it was the picture on the front that would send a sensible child fleeing in terror; a wretched, malformed reindeer that might have stumbled out of a nuclear testing facility as early as that morning, staring out into the world with huge, goggling eyes. The nose of the creature grimly blinked, but with an aggravatingly uneven rhythm and a random pattern of colors. It was a nightmare shirt spewed up from the bowels of clothing hell and forced to be carried on this earth by one small chicken. 

Stretch was bouncing on his toes, nearly bubbling with excitement, waiting for him to pronounce judgement. 

“They’re…” _wonderful_. Edge hesitated, the word dying unspoken. He couldn’t, he simply couldn’t, that lie refused to roll off his tongue. He veered down another lane and said, smoothly, “You did an excellent job, they’re very creative.” 

To his relief, Stretch only laughed and said teasingly, “did you hurt yourself there? it’s okay, fashionista, they’re supposed to be ugly, go wild.”

“They’re hideous,” Edge said promptly. “If your intent was for them to be ugly, you’ve been successful beyond all hopes and dreams. A child who found one of those under their tree would block off their chimney next year. If Monsters wore those into battle centuries ago, they would have won the war--”

A hand over his mouth cut him off, but Stretch was laughing almost too hard to keep it there, “okay, grinch, i get the picture.” He replaced his hand with his mouth, a loud smacking kiss, but there was a bare hint of uncertainty as he drew back and asked, “they’re good ugly, though, right?”

“The very best ugly I could imagine,” Edge assured him. He drew Stretch down for another kiss, gentler this time, ignoring the indignant clucks of the chickens as their petting ceased. 

Knowing Stretch, he’d be taking the ladies out for walks, the better to inflict his ghastly creations on New New Home. Equally likely, Edge would be at his side, walking along and watching as the people they met either laughed or cringed, and their humor would only make Stretch laugh all the harder, that happy delight there for Edge to watch and his own joy could never be mistaken for a bite of underdone potato.

As someone once said, there was nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humor, and there was no one in the world Edge would rather share it with. 

Even if that happiness included an ugly sweater. 

-finis-


End file.
